Breathe Me
by AnaLikestoWrite
Summary: (Warner's POV of "the scene" in Ignite Me and of Ch. 62 in Unravel Me) "My hands are burning as I grip her frail waist, and I can not find the words to tell her how long, how desperately I have needed this. Can not explain in words the way I feel now, in this moment, and how I seem to be coming apart at the seams. Can not explain, so I let my lips. Let my hands."
1. Chapter 1

**Was thinking of this scene right before I drifted off to sleep last night and decided that I COULD NOT sleep until I wrote this, made a FF account and everything just to do it. I rarely write, but this story changed me in such a way that I felt the need to. Sooo, here you go. :)**

**IMPORTANT: Please review, you don't need an account! I LOVEEE constructive criticism! :-)**

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Time, I think, is such an odd thing.

How we think we have so much of it yet we have none at all.

She's gone.

And I don't know what to think.

I always thought my Mother's death would bring me a sort of relief, maybe temporary insanity at the slightest. But this, this instead feels like everything at once and nothing at all. Like the world in made of crippling ice and I'm holding on to the edge of it by my fingernails, staring straight down into the endless oblivion that threatens to obliterate my very being. Maybe falling would be easier. To just fall, be lost, and allow my body to be covered in the blanket of the world, never to feel this life any longer, never to feel the pain I have inflicted, maybe I'd be doing the world a favor. To just fall and fall and fall and-

"Aaron?"

But something, something always seems to keep me gripping onto the edge of the ice.

I stiffen, feeling the weight of the bed shift as she crawls to sit up next to me. I'm suddenly thankful for the lights being off. If I look as bad as I am feeling, I do not want her to notice. Do not want her to pity me. Pity the poor broken boy with scars on his back and a dead Mother.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers.

And there it is. Pity. The one soul in this hell-bent world that I would give my life for, and she feels sorry for me. How stupid was I, behaving like I did that night. I spent my entire life building a wall that separated me from any type of human emotion, any type of feeling that could break me, and here she is. Tearing its fragments down piece by piece. I am a glass building in the eye of a never-ending hurricane. I nod and turn to stalk into my office, I'm about to break and she can't be here to see me. "Thank you," I choke out, trying to get out as fast as I can.

"Aaron,"

The way she says my name makes me stop in my tracks, it is different and more desperate than I have ever heard it. I don't even realize how hard I'm gripping the edge of the boardroom table until I look back at my white knuckles. I can not deal with this right now.

"Please, Juliette, not tonight, I can't-"

"You're right," she exhales. "You've always been right."

I turn confused, try to read her expression to decipher what she is trying to say and fail. Normally I am able to read her energy better than she can sense her own, but I am too shook up to do that as of now.

"Right about what?" I scan her expression. She looks nervous, scared even. And I don't know why.

But then she says,

"I do want you," trembles with her words. "I want you so much it scares me."

And suddenly I'm letting go of the edge of the ice and I am spiraling in and out of sanity, screaming breathless hitches in the dark, attempting to grip the starless skies, grasp the frozen air. Take hold of something, anything, that could make sense of what is happening right now.

"I lied to you," she fumbles, starts rambling. "That night. When I said I didn't want to be with you. I lied. Because you were right. I was a coward. I didn't want to admit the truth to myself. and I felt so guilty for preferring you, for wanting to spend all my time with you, even when everything was falling apart. I was confused about Adam, I was confused about who I was supposed to be and I didn't know what I was doing and I was stupid. I was stupid and inconsiderate and I tried to blame it on you and I hurt you, so badly." she gasps. "And I'm so, so sorry."

She tears the last pieces down. "What-" I blink the tears threatening to sting my eyes. "What are you saying?"

"I love you," her voice strangled. "I love you exactly as you are."

And with that, she kills me.


	2. Chapter 2

"No," I gasp, trying to find air and failing in the process. This can not be happening, in no world would something like this be happening. I'm losing my mind. I am absolutely, one-hundred percent losing my mind. I look away, look anywhere but her. I can not go through this again. Can not emotionally withstand it again. "No. No, no-"

"Aaron-"

"No," I back away. My head is spinning. She's done it. She's trying to murder me, to obliterate me into nothingness. She has discovered the absolute worst method of torture she could possibly have me endure and she is using it. "No, you don't know what you're saying-"

"I love you," she tells me. "I love you and I want you and I wanted you then,"

I'm about to break, crack open and erupt. " I wanted you so much and I still want you, I want you right now-"

And with that, I cripple into dust between her fingertips. She has reached into my chest, ripped out my lungs, and left me no air to breathe. And I'm not sure how it happened exactly but I find her in my arms, holding her, kissing her.

Her kissing me back.

And I am suddenly a starving animal, a prisoner seeing light for the first time. My hands are burning as I grip her frail waist, and I can not find the words to tell her how long, how desperately I have needed this. Can not explain in words the way I feel now, in this moment, and how I seem to be coming apart at the seams. Can not explain, so I let my lips. Let my hands.

I bring her up and allow her to wrap her legs around my hips, leaning her against the wall and I bury my lips into her neck. I feel her pulse quicken as I set her down on the edge of the board-room table. Not the most comfortable spot, yes. But I am far too impatient to walk all the way to the bedroom now, not after all of this.

I'm laying on top of her now, trailing my hand up her back and under her shirt. Trying to feel her in every way possible to make sure she's actually there. Really, truly there. I'm slipping my hand behind her knee and bringing her closer, but even this closeness is not enough. No amount of closeness between us could ever be enough.

I somehow manage to break the kiss. "Up," I gasp, temporarily disoriented. "Lift your arms up." And she immediately does. Is this happening? I grasp the hem of her shirt and crumple it up onto the floor. "Lie back," I guide her onto the table, feeling the curve of her lower back, guiding my hands lower to her thighs, then suddenly I'm making my way up again, lightly touching her, she lets out a moan. I expect her to stop me as I begin unbuttoning her jeans, but she doesn't. "Lift your hips for me, love." I hook my fingers around both the band of her jeans and her underwear and in one swift motion, pull them down. She lets out a gasp that makes me lose all rational thought. I take in the sight of her then, how beautiful and strong she is. How powerful and brave. Caring and free.

I want so desperately to drink in this moment then, to drown forever in its contents and never resurface.

I'm skimming every inch, every ounce of her body. Up her legs, into the inner parts of her thighs. How can someone so strong and powerful be so soft and lovely? She is a living contradiction, a perfect storm, a beautiful catastrophe. She must be enjoying herself too, because she's gripping my shoulders so tight she breaks the skin, but I'm too busy planting marks with my lips all over her body to really care. Going lower and lower, not stopping until she makes me.

She never makes me.

I want so badly then to just breathe her in. To breathe in every piece and pigment of her soul and taste every ounce of her body. I had envisioned this moment so many nights before, but never did I imagine it would ever truly come to life. Never did I think it'd feel so exhilarating, so alive. For the first time in my entire life, I feel awake. It's an addicting feeling.

After, I carry her onto the bed and immediately tower on top and start kissing her again, I'm running my hands down and up her body like silk, feeling energized as I reach up to her face and gently tug at the bottom of her lip. She tastes like milk and honey, hope and chaos. I gasp as she suddenly tugs me forward, pressing her lips deeper into mine, running her hands through my hair.

She then breaks away, shoves me down, and I notice her hands tremble as she tries to fumble with the buttons. I almost laugh then, it's the most ridiculous thing. She can break through cement, but not through buttons? It's undeniably adorable. Instead of helping, I watch as she rips the shirt and makes the buttons fly across the room. At this point I have lost all composure, all self-control. So I take her into my lap, guiding her legs around my back, and dip her down onto the mattress. Every inch of her, every curve, marking, and flaw is in my view. She's so vulnerable, so beautiful. I cup her face, hot in my hands, and kiss her. Kiss her until the pain stops, until the world hauls in place and every cruel thing that has ever happened to her disappears. I realize then that I have barely said a word to her.

"I think," I choke out, "my heart is going to explode," What a stupid thing to say. I'm still reeling in what is happening. Trying to piece together a single coherent thought, and although I am falling, she is right there catching me. Just this morning I was convinced that she rightfully despised me, that there was absolutely no pigment of a possibility that she could ever love me, that I could ever deserve her love. Now, suddenly, all of that has changed. A blink of an eye, a flick of a switch.

Time, I think, is such an odd thing.

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**YOU DON'T NEED AN ACCOUNT TO REVIEW :) I really hope you guys liked this! I have not read Warner's POV in Unite Me just yet so I do apologize if his voice is not 100% yet. Thank you for reading!(:**


	3. Chapter 3

**IMPORTANT: THIS IS FROM UNRAVEL ME CHAPTER 62, so this is all before my last 2 chapters ever happened. I've gotten so many lovely reviews that I almost started crying reading them last night. You all are such kind-hearted souls thank you for supporting my writing. This is the second story I have ever written, so thank you for sticking it out with me.**

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It's been lights-out for almost two hours now.

At this point I've memorized the patrol's patterns. I know that by this time the guards will just be finishing scoping the hall Juliette is staying in. I make slow, steady movements. Partly because I do not want to cause a disruption, and partly because I am afraid that they will hear how hard my heart is beating right now with what I am about to do.

I take a step, collect my thoughts. I silently practice what I am going to say over and over again. Take another step.

I approach Juliette's door.

Knock twice.

There isn't an answer at first, and for a disappointing second I assume she is asleep. A wave of relief rushes over me as I hear footsteps move closer. I hear the door creak open, and upon seeing me, she swiftly shuts it back.

"Juliette?"

I realize then that she was probably expecting Kent at the door.

"What are you doing here?"

"I need to speak with you" I explain.

"Right now. You need to speak to me right now" I can sense the annoyance in her voice.

"Yes. It's important," I press. "I heard Kent telling you that those twin girls would be in the medical wing tonight and I figured it would be a good time for us to speak privately."

"You heard my conversation with Adam?" Her voice hitches with obvious panic, she thinks I overheard something about them that I shouldn't have.

"I have zero interest in your conversation with Kent," I remark as flippantly as possible. I hate the pit in my stomach I get when she mentions his name, so I try to mask it. Push it down. "I left as soon as I heard you'd be alone tonight."

"Oh." Relief rushes over her. "How did you even get in here without the guards stopping you?"

"Maybe you should open the door so I can explain"

She lets out a heavy sigh and I almost want to roll my eyes at her.

"Please, love, I'm not going to do anything to hurt you. You should know that by now."

"I'm giving you five minutes. Then I have to sleep, okay? I'm exhausted."

"Okay," I nod. "Five minutes."

She peaks the door open, and stares at me wide-eyed. I can't help but crack a smile as she shakes her head at me. Normally I would take into account the fact that it's night and she would most likely be tired when I arrived, but at this point I do not care. I want to say what has been eating away at my mind for far too long. If I can just use these five minutes to my advantage, I am confident that she will listen. She will see that she and I are alike, and that she does not belong trapped inside this cage.

I guide myself past her and onto the bed, trying to make out her face in the dark. I notice for the first time that she's wearing a thin white tank top and loose pants that are set a little too low on her hips. I'm so used to her wearing her full body suit that I have to shift my eyes back to hers so she does not think I'm gazing. I think she catches me though, and immediately crosses her arms to her chest.

"So… what is it?" She asks. I can hear the distance in her voice. It's the kind of distance that makes me know that she is thinking about the safety of her friends right now. She's been distraught since their capture, blaming herself for what was out of her control. "You just left earlier, in the tunnel. Even though I asked you to wait."

I suddenly realize that this is my moment. This is the precise moment that I have been rolling around my mind for the past few days, the moment I had been practicing in my solitary every night until my eyelids closed. This is the moment that has been my last bit of hope, something I can say that I have not had in a very long time. This is my chance.

And I don't know what to say.

"Your bed is much more comfortable than mine," I start to ramble. "You have a pillow? And an actual blanket?" Stupid. "You're living like a queen in these quarters. They treat you well." I laugh nervously. My whole life I have always been so articulate with my words, so why now is it so hard for me to piece together my thoughts?

"Warner, what's going on?" Although it is too dark to see her expression, I can feel her tense beside me. "Why are you here?"

Why am I here? So many reasons. So many thoughts jumbled into my mind, so many in fact that I can not come up with a single thought. I want her instead to crack open my head, look into my mind, and see. I want to tell her that it is because she is like a bird. And a bird who spends its whole life between the close set bars of a cage will stay there thinking that it is their home, even when someone comes along to open it.

Because whether beaten or cared for, fed or starved, a cage is still a cage. I want to tell her that this is not her home, that she is so much more than the solitude that people like Kent have placed around her. I want to show her that her wings are not clipped, that she can soar cloud-high into whatever destination calls for her. I want to tell her that there is a galaxy contained within her, one that is covered only by the soft covers of her skin. But I can not find a way to express this, so I just say,

"I want you to come with me." I let out a tight breath. "When I leave tomorrow, I want you to come with me." I am trembling now, and I almost want to blame it on the cold. "I never had a chance to finish talking to you earlier and I thought asking you in the morning would be bad timing all around."

"You want me to come with you" she repeats, she recites it almost as if I had spoken another language and she's trying to decipher what I really meant by it.

"Yes." My mind is screaming, why are my words not?

"You want me to run away with you." This was a foolish idea.

"Yes." Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"I can't believe it." She lets out a laugh of disbelief. "You really have lost your mind."

It's almost impossible to read her expression in this dim light. "Where's your face? I feel like I'm talking to a ghost."

"I'm right here."

"Where?"

"I'm here." Gee, that sure helped.

"I still can't see you." I cite, moving closer to the sound of her voice. "Can you see me?" I crawl across the bed until I can see the faint outline of her features. I wonder, can she feel it? Can she feel the way she makes my head go dizzy and my pulse quicken? I want her head on my heart, and her hands on my chest. I want to ask her if she feels the way the air changes when I am around her, I want to know she feels it too.

"No." she takes a step back.

I reach out my hands to her arms, I want her to feel it. I desperately want her skin on my skin, and I want her to look me directly in the eyes and tell me that she does not feel the world caving in when I let go. I trail slowly down to her waist, to the cotton material clinging thinly onto her warm body until I find a spot of skin right above the hem of her tank top. My heart is in my throat and I wonder how long it has been since I've let out this breath I have been holding in.

"Is it even possible" I let out a strangled breath, "that you can't feel this fire between us?" I trail my fingertips up her waist, finding her arms again. She bites her lip, and I take this as my cue. I hook my fingers underneath the straps of her top, and pull them down very lightly. Just enough to expose the skin of her shoulders. Without thought, I press my lips light on her shoulder, so light that at first I am not quite sure she feels it. So then, heavier, I start to mark her collarbone. Again, and again, and again. The hot rush in the air is almost too much. Almost.

I pull back to read her expression. Her eyes are closed relaxed, not squinted. I stretch out my hand and ever so lightly start to carve the outline of her upper-lip. Tracing its curves and ridges until she parts them open. I step closer, the atmosphere filling with a storm that shoots through me like lightning in my veins. She leans into me and smells like daisies and something dangerous, something powerful. She smells like Juliette. I want to capture the contents of this moment into a bottle and put it on the highest shelf I can find. I want to be able to go back to this feeling whenever I want, to live within it over and over.

And then she leans in, rests her head between the crook of my neck, and I swear right then she consumes me.

"You," I try to find a word. An adjective that could possibly capture the waves she sends through my body. The way she sets my soul ablaze and heart on fire. I try to whisper slowly, making sure every syllable is spoken with the right amount of depth between my words when I say,

"You _destroy me"_

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**Just part one of Chapter 62 from Unravel me. I will be uploading the rest within the next day or so. Any feedback? Suggestions? Please feel free to tell me! You don't have to have an account to review. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you for the suggestions everyone, I'm trying to add more dialogue and actions in these next few chapters that you couldn't see from Juliette's perspective. I hope you enjoy. :)**

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And with that, she melts into my arms. The tension leaves her body and fills the air, and I muster my thoughts together say,

"Juliette," I carefully scan her eyes as I speak, "I want you. I want all of you." I hear her let out a hoarse breath. "I want you inside and out and catching your breath and aching for me like I ache for you." As soon as my words start, they come spilling out like an overflowing sink. "It's never been a secret. I've never tried to hide that from you. I've never pretended I wanted anything less."

"You," she stammers, "you said you wanted f-friendship—"

"Yes," I crack, swallow the train lodged in my throat. "I did. I do. I do want to be your friend." I nod, take in a shaky breath. "I want to be the friend you fall hopelessly in love with. The one you take into your arms and into your bed and into the private world you keep trapped in your head. I want to be that kind of friend," she tries to speak, but I keep going, "The one who will memorize the things you say as well as the shape of your lips when you say them. I want to know every curve, every freckle, every shiver of your body, Juliette—"

"No," she interrupts, tears lodged in her eyes. "Don't—don't s-say that—" I watch as one trickles down the side of her cheek. I want to capture her tears and make sure they never leave her eyes again. I continue speaking so she doesn't.

"I want to know where to touch you" I begin again. "I want to know how to touch you. I want to know how to convince you to design a smile just for me." I watch her eyes as they scan mine, then towards my chest which is rising and falling at an alarming speed. "Yes, I do want to be your friend." I place my fingertips in between hers, "I want to be your best friend in the entire world."

And I know she feels this, I have never been more confident and terrified in my entire life than when I am with her. She makes me feel like I can scatter stars across the universe with her touch. She captivates me, and I know that deep down, I do the same to her.

"Y-you don't know what you're saying Warner," she presses her fingertips harder against mine. "You don't know-"

"But I do, Juliette." I break her off, "I know exactly what I am saying and I know exactly what it is that I want"

I move my lips closer to her ear, whisper silently, " I want so many things," I start. "I want your mind. Your strength. I want to be worth your time." I trail one hand to the hem of her tank, grip it, and say "I want this up." Tug on the waist of her pants and say "I want these down." I press my fingertips to the side of her body, gently feeling the electricity buzz off of her and say "I want to feel your skin on fire. I want to feel your heart racing next to mine and I want to know it's racing because of me, because you want me. Because you never," I take a breath, stitch together my next words very carefully, "never want me to stop. I want every second. Every inch of you. I want all of it."

And does she ever just_ stare at me._

"Tell me you don't want this," I motion between us, "and I swear I will stop. I will stop right now and never mention it again. I will leave you alone for the rest of my days." She stays silent. I search her eyes for the slightest sign that I should stop, but instead I am met with only a look of increased longing.

"Juliette." I swallow hard. I inhale before my next words come out. Growing up, my father always taught me that vulnerability was weakness, that the vulnerability I showed towards my mother would tear me down, make me soft. But he was wrong. To be vulnerable is to open your mind, body, heart, and soul to another person. You allow them to dive into the deepest and darkest corners of your mind and the most mixed up parts of your soul. To love and be vulnerable is not my biggest weakness, it is my best strength. I exhale, tremble as I say "I'm so—I'm so desperately in love with you—"

And suddenly I feel as if I'm floating. I feel an unexpected trickle down the side of my face and am suddenly thankful for the darkness of the room. I touch the side of her face and wonder if she's truly here with me or if I'm in another dream. I had planned out this moment so precisely that now that it is finally here, it doesn't feel real. I try to make sense of it, traveling my fingers down the side of her face, taking my time moving lower and lower until they're found in the place between her jaw and neck. I gently brush my thumb across her cheek where the ghost of a tear once was. I breathe her scent in, she's devouring me piece by piece as she looks at me. Although it is dark, I can always see her eyes shining through the darkness. Always captivating me with an intensity brighter than a lit match.

I move slightly, and carefully cup her face hot and heavy in my hands. She feels like a cloud beneath my touch. I focus at the touch of my hands on the face that has felt so much pain, seen so much death, yet remains kind and pure. It's astonishing that even after the world flipped her upside down, tumbling out of the sky, that she still remains so soft. She did not allow this world to make her hard, and for that, she is more powerful than I could ever hope to be.

I lean in, "Please," I am so close I can almost taste the scent of her skin, "Please don't shoot me for this."

And I kiss her.

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**Just slight changes in action and dialogue for this one, feel free to leave a review! Also if you have a tumblr I just made one :) my URL is her-minds-a-mess is you want to follow. Thanks again.**


	5. Chapter 5

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And suddenly I am quicksand and she is the ground beneath it, and I am sinking far beneath my sanity and into her bones. Her lips taste like ecstasy and I'm suffocating within it. This feeling is suddenly not enough, the space between us certainly isn't. I reel back, scan the expression on her face. Drink in the emotion, and drown in the energy. I feel ripped apart, like this is it, I have finally come undone and there is nothing left to do but completely lose myself within her. I have either completely lost my mind or I have finally recovered it.

"_Oh God—_" She mutters, but I just kiss her again. Desperately, urgently. I try to make every kiss explain what my mind can not.

"Do you understand what I am trying to say?" I whisper in between each kiss. "Do you understand exactly what it is you do to me?" kiss the base of her neck, "You make me want to climb skyscrapers and build bridges and be the person I never thought I could be." I feel her hands tangle in my hair, hear her pant my name. "You make me forget the broken skin on my back and the tattoo below my hip, you make me petrified and I want it Juliette." My voice is barely human now, I make my way to her collarbone "I want it forever and ever, locked beneath my bones, never to leave. I want you, Juliette. I want this."

I trail my nails down the arch of her back, planting my lips against her neck, the middle of her throat, and the crescent of her shoulder. I'm panting, sweating, as I twist my fingers in her hair. She reaches her hands roughly to scratch the back of my neck like she's falling. Like she's falling and does not want to ever get back up again. I am suddenly feeling famished in a way I had never thought possible. I pin her up against the wall and kiss her until the hunger stops. I don't even comprehend the fact that my hands are moving to her pajamas until they're already there. I start tugging them off quickly and swiftly, feeling her body against mine.

I grab whatever self-control is resided in me and pull back. I stop for a moment and just look at her. Not in a lustful way, but in the same way that someone would admire art. She is truly a masterpiece. A delicate blade in the midst of war.

"You're so beautiful" I admire. "You're so unbelievably beautiful."

With that, I draw her into my arms, pick her up, and lead her on top of her bed. Placing her down, I instantly tower above her with my legs mounting the sides of her hips. In one swift motion, I grab the hem of my shirt and throw it off not caring where its destination leaves. And then with both elbows planted on either side of her face, I start kissing her again. And again, and again, and again.

Her top lip, her bottom lip, the tip of her chin, the curve of her nose, the center of her forehead, the sides of her face, the apples of her cheeks, the length of her jawline. Then, I linger even slower with my lips marking up and down her neck, nibbling the lobes of her ears, then making my way back down her neck again. I want give her enough kisses to make up for the past seventeen years she has had to live without them.

I begin to move lower, until my face is hovering over her bare stomach. At this point my heart has already flown away with my sanity and I am no longer looking for either. I rub my hands lightly against the porcelain of her thighs, up and down, making my way up past her ribs, down back to the arch of her lower back. Her body is a language that I so terribly wish to be fluent in. I'm brushing my lips against her stomach and it takes until she lets out a choked gasp that I suddenly realize that my hands have landed on the waistband of her underwear.

I start to kiss my way up from her stomach when I feel her hand reach for a handful of my hair, lightly tugging it out of what I assume is pleasure. She then leads me up on top of her and slips her shaky hands behind the nape of my neck, down the ridges of my chest, and carelessly down the rest of my body. I feel like I am on the verge of combusting. I want to touch her, I want to show her that she has never been loved before with the depth that I love her with, that she has never really loved anyone besides me.

There is this flicker of a moment where I am just staring at her and she is just staring at me, and I catch it. Just the few seconds of the emotion washed across her eyes confirms everything that I have been questioning about her feelings toward me. She in fact has always felt the same, that she only pushed it down, tried to lock it away for no one to find until now. I shift my weight to my side so I can cup her face in my hand, breathe and feel it gently in mine.

"_Warner_-" she whispers, so quietly, so gently that I almost don't catch it. I want more, I want to taste the taste of her mouth when she moans my name, my real name. The name I only let one person in this dear world call me by, one I have not heard in years.

"Juliette," I feel like I am about to shatter into a million little pieces. "I don't want you to call me Warner anymore." She opens her eyes at this and I don't dare look away. I need her to feel the truth of every word I say.

I push away a strand of hair glued to the side of her face. "I want you to know me. I don't want to be Warner with you, I want it to be different now." I'm trying to sink every ounce of vulnerability in me that I never knew I still had. " I want you to call me Aaron."

I spent years trying to never say that name. Aaron was the little boy who hid behind the soft hands of his mother when his father came to visit. He was a coward, he was afraid. After my Mother grew ill, I had to push him down. I had to create Warner and kill what was left of that little boy. It was the only way I could survive, it was my only chance to save _her_.

But now she's come and she's ruined everything in the most magnificent way. I don't want to be Warner when I am with her, I want to be the me I am when no one is around. She gives me a look and I swear I've won her over then. I swear this is it, this is everything.

But then she says,

"Adam."

_And I'm gone._

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	6. Chapter 6

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I wonder then, if this is what death feels like.

Because suddenly I'm seeing stars and smoke and black and black and black-

Twenty-million emotions are pouring themselves over me at once, hitting me in the face, dumping me into the sky,

then nothing at all.

"I'm s-sorry," she stutters, the realization of what she has said smacking her in the face. "I'm so sorry—I never meant for this to happen—I wasn't _thinking_—"

"Wasn't thinking?" I spit out, "'Wasn't thinking' is what you say when you forget to take out the garbage, Juliette." I start pacing back and forth, "'Wasn't thinking' is what you say when you forget to clean your room before visitors come over." I'm losing it. "'Wasn't thinking' is not what you have done. Dear God, you really don't understand—"

I think she says something but I am no longer listening.

"What's happening to me? Am I dreaming?" She isn't even looking at me now. She doesn't care, she doesn't see. I am the one person in this world she despises and I was wrong about her, she isn't like me, she doesn't understand.

But I know that this is a lie, too. She loves me. She loves me and it's killing her in the same way that this rejection is murdering me right now.

"You're choosing him?" I accuse. "Is that what just happened? You're choosing Kent over me? Because I don't think I understand what just happened and I need you to say something, I need you to tell me what the hell is happening to me right now—"

"No," She barks, "No, I'm not choosing anyone—I'm not—I'm n-not—" but the way her eyes shine, I know she is trying to convince herself more than she is trying to convince me.

"Why?" I've reached the point past desperation. "Because he's the safer choice for you? Because you think you _owe_ him something?" I see her flinch. "You are making a mistake, you're scared. You don't want to make the difficult choice and you're running away from me."

"Maybe I just d-don't want to be with you." She says plainly, not even she can believe her own words and it's clear on her face.

"I know you want to be with me!"

"You're wrong."

"Really?" I try to catch some air into my nonexistent lungs, and step closer to her. My legs almost give out from underneath me.

"Y-yes" She's looking at the ground now. She won't dare look at my face, won't care to know what she is doing to me.

"So I'm wrong." I take another step, whisper into her ear. "I'm wrong that you want me." Reach out my hand to her shoulder to see if she stops me, "That you want to be with me" graze the outline of her shoulders slowly, tracing the constellations down the hourglass of her body. I see her bite her lip, sigh softly.

"Tell me something, love." I lift the tips of my fingers almost all the way off her skin, so lightly that she can only feel the ghost of what is there. Whisper into her collarbone, "Am I blind, too?" I step back. The expression on her face is almost satisfying.

"I will not be your clown!" I snap. "I will not allow you to make a mockery of my feelings for you! I could respect your decision to _shoot me_, Juliette, but doing this—doing— doing what you just did—" I run a hand up my face, into my wet hair. I look down at my other hand gripped tight onto the frame of the bed, knuckles white. It takes whatever composure left in me to not break it into tiny pieces. "It's the play of a coward, I thought you were so much better than that."

"I'm not a coward—"

"Then be honest with yourself!" I say. "Be honest with me! Tell me the truth!" My vision is burned to black at the edges. "Enlighten me in some way love, convince me that I am wrong."

She waves her trembling hands at me, anger flashing in her eyes. "The truth," she begins, "is that I never know what to think of you! Your actions, your behavior—you're never consistent! You're horrible to me and then you're kind to me and you tell me you love me and then you hurt the ones I care most about!" Her face lights up like a red balloon and tears start to streak her face.

I so terribly wish to take ahold of her then. To pick up the strands of hair sticking to the center of her cheeks. To kiss the waterfalls streaming from the hurricane in her eyes. I want to make the pain she is feeling melt away, but then I remember that I am the one that caused it. Then I remember that she has done the same to me.

"And you're a liar," she snaps, backing away. "You say you don't care about what you do—you say you don't care about other people and what you've done to them but I don't believe it. I think you're hiding. I think the real you is hiding underneath all of the destruction and I think you're better than this life you've chosen for yourself. I think you can change. I think you could be different. And I feel sorry for you!"

I was wrong, she does not love me. She loves the idea of me. She loves the potential of what I could be, as if I were putty in the palm of her hands and she could fix me. She believes that I am a broken toy that she can fix. That I am a misspelled word in her journal that she can easily take an eraser to and replace.

I would rather her not love me at all.

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	7. Chapter 7

**This is the last chapter, enjoy!**

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"I'm sorry for your horrible childhood."

Her words slap me in the face.

"I'm sorry you have such a miserable, worthless father and I'm sorry for the terrible decisions you've made. I'm sorry that you feel trapped by them, that you think of yourself as a monster that can't be changed. But most of all,"

Stabs me in my chest,

"most of all, I'm sorry you have no mercy for yourself!"

She twists it.

"You pity me." I say it like a fact, not an accusation. "You think I'm some kind of broken project you can repair."

"No—I didn't—" She tries to take her words back as if she can undo what has already been done.

"You think you can say whatever you want to me and it not have any consequences. You know my feelings for you and you consistently take advantage of them!" I hiss. "Contrary to popular belief, I am not some kind of robot, Juliette!" I'm coming apart at the seams.

"I k-know—"

"No, you don't! You have no _idea_ what I've done!" My eyes start to sting. "You have no idea what I've seen, what I've had to be a part of. You have no idea what I'm capable of or how much mercy I deserve. I know my own heart," my words fall heavy with venom. " I know who I am, Don't you dare pity me!"

I think I'm going to throw up, I think I'm going to die. She has delicately hoisted her soft hands into my ribcage, and ripped out what is left of my heart. I want to disappear. I want to disappear and have this moment over. I want to be anywhere but here, I can't be here. My lungs have vanished with my sanity.

"I thought you could love me for _me_, I thought you would be the one person in this godforsaken world who would accept me as I am! I thought you, of all people, would understand." My face is two-inches away from hers as I say, "I was wrong. I was so horribly, horribly wrong."

A million years pass between us and she seems to have lost the ability to speak. She is the one with my heart seeping through the space between her fingers, and yet she expects me to be the one carrying the conversation.

I turn away, grabbing my shirt from the explosion of blankets and pillows beneath it. The center of my soul stings reminding me of the memories from just a few minutes ago. My father was right, he always was. People are just obstacles that try to distract you of your goals. They catch you at your most vulnerable, and like a fish in a pond, reel you up and suffocate you with promises and worst of all, hope.

I feel a tug on my arm, "Please—that's not what I meant—"

I turn towards her, "I do not want your _sympathy_!

"I wasn't trying to hurt you—"

"Isn't that the most horrible part of it, though?" I scoff. "That you didn't try to hurt me? That you didn't consider my feelings, yet reached for the parts of my life you knew would sting me the most?" I make no effort to conceal the look of hurt in my eyes.

"You can call me horrible, a monster, a liar even. I've heard it all before." Words begin to trickle through my mind like little whispers of the truth. "But what you did—what you've done—is more cruel than any torture I have endured in my entire life."

"The truth," I finish, "is a painful reminder of why I prefer to live among the lies."

I almost want to take her by the shoulders then, shake her and tell her that she is wrong about everything. That Kent only loves the good parts of her, that he will never understand what it is for people like us. I want to tell her that I see her light and her dark, and that unlike him, I accept all of it.

I almost do, but I don't.

I breathe in, and the next words I say feel like acid in my mouth.

"Good-bye, Juliette."

I turn to reach for the doorknob, not expecting her to say anything more when she says, "I won't see you again." I pause, momentarily confused by her words. Not quite a question, not quite a statement. I fight the urge to look back at her face and fail. The look in her eyes strikes me like poison in my bloodstream, the hate and disgust she feels towards me is too much.

The next words come out almost as if I have entered auto-pilot mode, and I am just as shocked as her when I say,

"I certainly hope not." And stalk out the door.

Just like that, I am gone. Gone from herself and gone from me.

Is this what death feels like?

No, I think. Dying would be far less painful.

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**And that's it! This is the longest I have ever put my time towards a story, so I hope you all enjoyed reading it. I read every single one of your reviews and hop up and down fangirling over them every time I see a new one pop up. It's crazy to me that even one person has taken the time out of their own day to read what I have written, so thank you. It sincerely means more than you know.**


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